


I Miss You

by MeMyselfMoi



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M, Strip basketball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 13:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3135602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeMyselfMoi/pseuds/MeMyselfMoi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aomine and Kuroko play a game of basketball. A new way.</p>
<p>(Includes sentimental dog tags, a lovely old swingset, and teasing) (Mind out of the gutter; the teasing is purely verbal. Well. Mostly verbal.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Miss You

So.   
This happened. 

It’s a rather long story, but to summarize:   
Tetsu and Bakagami ran into me and Kise playing at one of the street courts we all used to frequent, back in middle school. Bakagami issues a challenge, (of friggin’ course), so. Bakagami getting all into it, Kise hanging off of Tetsu, me casually watching out for my shadow by either thumping the blonde idiot in the head, or pulling him off Tetsu… rinse, repeat.   
In the end, we decided it was a tie; Kise took off for a local quick-shop for a popsicle, Bakagami grudgingly went home, and Tetsu… Tetsu, for some reason, decided to stay back with me. 

“You can’t play like us, Tetsu.” 

He stares at me, soft blue eyes unflinching in the face of my brutal honesty.   
He was always like this; unflinching, steady… and always, always unbearably understanding. 

I don’t wait for a vocal response, but look down at the basketball between my hands. I saw it in his eyes already; he doesn’t care.   
He knows he isn’t like us.   
Where we can defeat those beneath us, he raises those beneath us up, making them the victors.   
He did it with all of us, back in middle school.   
Even though we didn’t necessarily need him to.   
He still did; if even just to show us he was there. 

The others mistook it for insecurity. I did too, at first.   
But as we played together, more and more, my shadow and I, eventually… I grew to recognize him.   
When I lost moral, bitter because of my own supremacy, he passed to me; showing, effectively, that he was there.   
Present.   
In the game with us, and a reason to keep playing. 

Because, after all, he loves basketball.   
More than anything, I think.   
One of the reasons I think Akashi adores him so much; he never gives up, and he’s always in it to win. 

I glance up at him. It is getting dark, the sun casting an orange glow across the pavement. He is looking behind me, at the net; I can recognize this expression by now. Wistful.   
I allow my gaze to skim down his body, lithe, a couple beads of sweat dripping down from his hairline, skating across his temples. An idea sparks in my mind.   
He sure as hell never gives up. 

“Wanna play?” 

I drop the basketball, start to dribble as I wait for his reply.   
His eyes flicker to mine, and I can see a question there. I turn away, so my back is to him. I stare at the net. 

“Each basket the other gets, is an article of clothing removed.” 

I can image him behind me, stoic, except for one eyebrow, which always rises in moments like this. 

Well. 

Maybe not moments quite like this; but in moments inducing befuddlement.   
The pause is stretching, further, longer, but just as I open my mouth to call psych, -- 

“That wouldn’t be very fair, Aomine-kun. As you pointed out, I can’t play like you can. I wouldn’t be able to stop you.” 

My eyes widen, just a bit. Tetsu… is playing along. 

Well, fuck. 

A smirk curls my lips, and I turn back to face him, still dribbling. The ball makes a thump, thump, thump each time it hits, loud in the otherwise quiet park.   
In the distance, I can hear cars, revving engines and honking horns and yelling drivers. 

“Fair enough. Each time you miss, either an interception or a shot, it’s a piece of clothing.” 

Ah.   
There’s the eyebrow. 

“And, of course, same rules for me.” I amend. 

His eyes are on mine, calculating, and yet still so warm.   
Calm.   
I want to change that. 

“Fair enough.” He recites back to me, stepping forward, walking past me, a slight breeze following his movements. 

He lowers himself, body automatically settling into a defensive position. I lower my body to match his. 

Thump, thump, thump. 

I swerve around him, passing him easily, and lazily shoot towards the basket. It goes in, of course. I turn back to him, smirking, an— uhh… 

Thump, thumpthump, thump. 

I feel a smile grow on my face as I hear Tetsu's uneven dribbling behind me, and I turn.   
He is standing right beneath the net, alternating the ball between both hands. 

Thump, thump, thump. 

He knew I would make it.   
He knew he couldn’t stop me.   
So he beat me to the ball, knowing exactly where it would land, based on my throw and foot position.   
Damn. 

“I’d almost forgotten, Tetsu. What it’s like when we play together.” 

It’s a lie, of course. It’d be impossible to forget. What I had forgotten was the feeling I got when we played, that comforting, happy glow, which somehow made my heart beat faster and my mind jump at every breath, touch, and sound on the court.   
I am an amazing player, I know that. Everyone knows that.   
But somehow, when I’m with Tetsu, when I have something to prove to Tetsu… I am more than amazing.   
More than incredible. 

I am unbeatable. 

He gives me that smile, that gentle lifting of the very corners of his mouth; barely noticeable except to a select few.   
Akashi; Midorima, and his friend with the… the hair; Murasakibara; and Kise.   
And, as much as I hate to admit it, Bakagami. 

I glare at him. 

“Smug asshole.” 

He turns his back to me, but his shoulders are looser.   
More relaxed.   
The way we were in middle school, when we’d hang out after practice, or before practice, or in the mornings, after we slept over at each other’s houses. 

A dangerous feeling is growing in my chest as I watch him get in position, arms rising, hands shifting around the large orange globe. 

I missed this. 

 

I miss him. 

 

He shoots, palms pushing against the ball, back arching just so, just enough to make a different feeling spread through me.   
The ball lifts into the air, and for a moment I think it’s gonna actually go in… but nope.   
I smirk again. Release a mock sigh. 

“Naaah… was pretty close there, Tetsu…” 

His back is still turned to me. We stand for a moment, me watching him, him staring down at the basketball now resting between his feet. 

In a movement so slight I almost miss it, his hands go to the edge of his shirt. 

My heart thumps once, loudly, and then settles into a slightly-faster-than-normal-and/or-healthy pace. 

He lifts his hands slowly, dragging the plain white material up with them. He pulls it over his head, and tosses the garment to the side. It lands on the grass, next to the fence surrounding the court.   
His back is pale, smooth. I can barely see the ridges of his muscles, except in his shoulders, and upper arms.   
But then, he always had nice arms.   
And hands.   
And eyes.   
And his neck, shit, his neck. I can see it now, the way it connects to his shoulders, his spine forming a line down his back. I want to skim my knuckles down that line, feel the bumps of his vertebrae.   
My eyes catch on the dimples at the base of his spine, half-covered by his shorts.   
I get the strangest urge to lick them. 

Fuck. 

He turns around, and his eyes meet mine, and I’m not surprised to see the exasperated half-glare in them.   
Amused? Yes.   
But not surprised. 

This time, I do more than just smirk at him. I offer him a full-blown, pearly white grin, and cast my gaze suggestively down his body.   
The muscles on his chest are more obvious. Far less so than mine, or even Midorima’s, but still definitely noticeable. His twin buds stand out, light pink, apparent even in the failing light. But then, it’s cooling down, too.   
I find my gaze being drawn to the gentle V on his abdomen, disappearing into his shorts. 

Damn those shorts. 

I walk towards him, beside him, past him. Pick up the ball. Desperately hope he didn’t notice the way my fingers twitched, automatically reaching for bare skin, when I passed him.   
We don’t say anything, just get back in the game, and now, now we’re really playing. I aim for the basket. Shoot, score. Run towards the basket, knowing I’ll get there before Tetsu.   
I pick up the fallen ball, and turn around to face him, pushing the ball up and over my shoulder with one hand at the same time.   
I don’t even glance at the net.   
I know it’ll make it in. 

Except Tetsu's not there when I turn around.   
My heart skips a beat.   
I turn back to the net, but he’s not where I thought he would be, standing beneath.   
Nope, he’s right behind me. The ball balanced on his pointer finger, spinning, spinning, spinning. 

And hot damn. 

Victory is a good look on him. 

“Don’t be so smug, Tetsu… it’s not cute at all.” 

I am teasing, I know it, he knows it. I used to do it a lot, back in middle school. 

“Akashi-kun always said you needed to look at the net, so that others can’t intercept so easily.” 

He says this as if offering me a piece of gold on a silver platter. I glare at him. He just smiles, that wonderful, mysterious, quirky little smile. 

Damn him. 

I reach my arms up, hands fastening on the tags behind my neck, pull my shirt up over my head. I toss it over behind the net. It lands right beside Tetsu's.   
My blood runs cold, then almost unbearably hot as Tetsu, the smug bastard, gives my body the same heated perusal I had granted him a few minutes ago.   
It’s for show, of course. I was always much more comfortable with taking my shirt off in front of others than the others, back at Teiko. But then, he hasn’t seen me without a shirt since then. I certainly have grown up more.   
Eh.   
Maybe it’s not entirely for show, after all. He lowers himself, settles into position, and starts dribbling. I match.   
We start again.

|~*~|

It’s getting close.   
We were cautious, when we first got going again, neither of us wanting to loose more ground.   
By now the light has all but disappeared, the moon and a broken lamp post further down the street the only things keeping us from cracking our skulls on the pavement.   
We have…abandoned such caution by now. 

I am shirtless, pantless, and watch-less, standing in nothing but my sneakers and boxers. He is shirtless, wrist warmer-less (both of them), earring-less (da fuck? Tetsu doesn’t have pierced ears? …), and just took off his necklace a few minutes ago.   
I smiled, just a bit, when I saw that.   
They were a pair of mock dog tags the Generation all got at a training camp our second year of middle school. I lost mine, almost right after we returned home. Always half suspected Momoi took ’em, scrapbooked them or something else equally cheesy.   
Trust Tetsu to be a sentimental idiot and keep them, hell, even wear them. 

I have the ball.   
As soon as Tetsu disappears from my vision, (thank you, freakin’ vanishing drive), I switch the ball from my right hand to my left. His hand swipes past where the ball was, just a moment ago, and I hear his slight huff of frustration. 

“Failed at an interception, Tetsu…” 

I swivel my finger lazily, indicating his half naked body. His hands go to the buttons at his hips. 

Snap. 

Snap. 

Ziiiip. 

He pushes them down, steps out, eyes not leaving mine. I step forward, until I am right in front of him. I bend down, slowly, and pick up the discarded shorts. I grip the material in my hands, glance at Tetsu from the corner of my eye.   
Gray boxers, cotton.   
I move to stand.   
Turn my face just a bit, just enough, so that as I exhale, my warm breath ghosts over the slight tent in between his legs.   
I find his eyes as I finish standing.   
Glowing blue. Staring at me, narrowed slightly. Our breath mingles in the cool air, forming little clouds of pale white. I swallow.   
Then… he is gone. 

 

Aaand so is the basketball. 

I stare down at my now empty palms, and smile.   
Perhaps a bit bitterly. 

 

I miss him. 

 

I turn when I hear the rattle of the basketball bouncing off the rim of the net.   
Damn. It went in. 

“You’ve gotten better, Tetsu.” 

He glances over at me, eyes solemn. And yet still managing to convey the ever-so-eloquent, ‘duh.’   
I scoff in return. He picks up the basketball, aims for the net again.   
Without my even telling it to, my body moves of its own accord. 

I am behind Tetsu, close enough to feel his body heat. He lowers his arms, automatically bending over in an attempt to stop me from getting the ball. The movement nudges his ass back into my crotch. 

Well, fuck. 

I swallow, eyes closing as I attempt very, very hard (pun intended) to not move my hips. He brushes against my dick as he shifts, and I grind my teeth. 

“Asshole,” I begin to mutter, but am cut off by the rattle of the net. 

I open my eyes, just in time to see the ball rebounding from the rim. It falls to the concrete, bounces a couple times, and then rolls, until it is stopped by Tetsu's feet. 

All of a sudden, it seems very quiet. I can still hear the cars in the distance, but they sound different. As if just echoes.   
Tetsu nudges the ball with one foot.   
I take a step back, then another, and another, until I am a good three yards from him.   
His outline is shinning, almost, with the moon just above his head. I shiver as I look at him. 

My eyes keep going down, to those gray cotton boxers.   
I swallow hard.   
His arms lift from his sides, hands skimming down his torso, -- 

I look away, to my left, focus on the empty swing set.   
I hear his feet scuffling on the ground.   
Feel my breath pick up.   
Red and blue, I think, is what it used to be; it’s hard to see in the darkness. But now the paint is peeling, the silver showing underneath matching the chains holding the swings up.   
I hear the slide of cloth against skin.   
Shit. 

A breeze picks up, just a light one, just enough to gently set the pair of swings into motion.   
Footsteps, now, coming closer to me.   
A voice at my elbow, soft, “Aomine-kun.” 

Fuck. 

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. 

I turn around, and my side grazes his head. A light tickling from his hair. His hand brushes against my stomach, a piece of cloth wrapped around his knuckles. I look down at the hand, with the pointer finger gently prodding at my chest. 

What. The. Hell. 

My eyebrows raise, eyes widening, just a bit. I look over his shoulder.   
The basketball is sitting still on the cold concrete, the only thing stopping it from rolling being—a shoe.   
One lone tennis shoe, sitting next to one lone basketball. 

My hands reach for Tetsu's shoulders, and I shove him back from me, just enough so I can get a full visual of his body.   
He is less clothed, true.   
Now all he is wearing are those gray boxers and a sock.   
A sock, matching the one wrapped around his knuckles. 

I attempt to ignore the disappointment curdling, low, in my stomach. 

I look around the court, our various articles of clothing scattered around it in the grass. 

Aaand there is the other sneaker. Sitting on its side, right next to my pants. 

My hands flex, once, on Tetsu's shoulders. I look down at him. He is smirking. I grin in return. 

 

Shit, I miss him.

**Author's Note:**

> I feed on reviews & humanity's lost hope. Please give one or the other


End file.
